Nicholas has swayed the sceptre of his ancestors with a mild dignity, and a certain moderation as well as firm ness of purpose, which do him the greatest credit both as a sovereign and politician. He has advanced the prosperity of his subjects in the most remarkable manner he has promoted their internal comforts and welfare, without injuring those of their neigh bours he has quelled a formidable insurrection in Poland, with fewer acts of severity than any similar revolt of equal extent and duration ever before produced; and he has observed the stipulations of public treaties with a scrupulousness and delicacy that cannot be too highly appreciated. The mildness and purity of his publie character will be instantly perceived by whoever will take the trouble of comparing him with Napoleon, or with Louis XIV.— the two characters most in vogue with his political enemies; and the manner in which Russia has conducted herself, under his special guidance, during the recent settlement of the Turco-Egyptian question, is a striking instance of public honour and moderation. The domestic simplicity and unam bitious good sense of the Emperor's heart, have been twice shown in the matrimonial alliances he has formed for his children. An ambitious monarch would have acted far otherwise; but a good and affectionate father would have done like the Emperor. It must be confessed, however, that two purely love-matches, and those, too, rather romantic ones, are altogether anomalies, not merely in royal, but even in noble families of the present day. We place our own Royal Lady and Sovereign, as bound both by affection and duty, at the head of the ladies whose brows are girt with diadems; but of the male monarchs of Europe, we know of none who can claim a higher station in the respect of the world than the Emperor Nicholas. For these and for other obvious reasons, resulting from the relative positions of England and Russia, we confess ourselves anxious to see a good understanding kept up between the friends and supporters of order and proper government in each coun. try; being convinced that it is better for both to be honourable and sincere friends, rather than concealed and insidious enemies; and believing that there is still plenty of room in the world for both peoples to pursue their own legitimate lines of conduct, without thwarting or running foul of each other. The advantages of a good understanding with such a power are obvious-the results of a blind rivalry and hostility are altogether problematical. On terminating this review of the policy of the Aristocracy and the Conservatives of Great Britain, with regard to the nobles and the friends of order on the Continent of Europe, we cannot avoid repeating, that the present juncture of affairs is one of great importance for putting things on a proper footing with regard to our foreign relations. The faults and mistakes of the last ten years have to be corrected, and a better course of policy chalked out for the future. The quarters in which our real friends in Europe lie should be well examined, and those friends should be properly cultivated and encouraged; the allies of pseudo-liberalism and disorganization should no longer be tampered with, but should be sent to the right-about-while the supporters of order and good national conduct should be sought out, and attached to us. The nobles and the Conservatives of England have now the destinies of the country in their own hands: they have the opportunity of raising her credit among other nations to the high pitch it had attained before they left office eleven years back; and it only depends upon them whether the Conservative interests of Europe should be formed into a strong and dignified combination for good, which may overawe the promoters of disorder, to whatever people they belong, and may give a sufficient security for a long continuance of peace to the civilized world. We have the fullest confidence in the nobles and the Conservatives of our land, and we have no fear but that they will both know and do their duty. This is what England expects. BRIGHTON. No. I. "LAUDES BRIGHTONENSES.-Ex veteribus recentioribusque collectæ, notas, illustrationes, versiculosque quosdam supplevit auctor celeb. Maximus Ignotus," TESTIMONIA. "Brighton-la plus belle ville d'Angleterre."-LE MARECHAL MACDONALD. "Oculus Angliae, olim piscatorum tuguria, nunc imperatorum palatia, Brightonia pulcherrima." -LIV. Histor: lib. v. Παρὰ θιν' πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης Βρίτωνη, μεγάλη, χρυσέη. Hom. Iliad, xii. "Ah, ville charmante! l'Angleterre avait du bien de quoi se vanter. Chérie par les orages, sans être orageuse; ah, des sejours le plus delicieux! Brighton n'a pas la necessité de cacher la petitesse des moyens par l'importance de l'objet, le grand secret de toute la politique."VOLTAIRE. Lettres de Ferney. "When a man is tired of doing nothing in that dim, dingy, and in every sense detestable collection of foolish men and women, bad politics, and rank fumes, London; I know nothing better, than to leave the whole abomination behind at once, and go down to Brighton. My Lord Oxford has a villa on the West Cliff, where I write this, and where they have built a line of palaces, that throws Versailles, with all its rampant nonsense of gods and goddesses, cupids in lead, and nymphs in bronze, (as black and impudent as the life of Louis Baboon himself,) into eclipse. The sea is our sheet of water, a storm is our jet-d'eau, worth ten millions of the silly waterpipes and snivelling dragons of Marli; we have breezes unpolluted by the pestilent air of courts; and we can eat, drink, and sleep unsickened by odious and stupid etiquette. I talk to the fishermen, buy my own fish-know a smuggler by sight; breakfast on crabs and French brandy, both worth all the slops of tea that ever were made in St James'; and, in short, live like a citizen of nature."SWIFT's Letters to Arbuthnot. BRIGHTON IN SUNSHINE. "The air was mild, the wind was calm, The surge was smooth, the dew was balm."-SCOTT. THOUGH it makes me hysteric To write panegyric Whenever the subject's a trite one; By Apollo's command I take harp in hand, To sing the enchantments of Brighton. If you're sick of the earth, Take a twelve-shilling berth On the roof of the "fast coach," the Triton: In five hours and a half You shall dance, sing, and laugh, In this Mahomet's paradise-Brighton. Let them talk of the Alps, They should hide their white scalps; The Apennines only can blight one. Rome, Naples, and Greece Are not worth pence a-piece, Compared with the esplanade-Brighton. You'll have all kinds of sport. To begin with the Court; The Queen will come down to invite one. Since the Whigs are knock'd up, We shall dance, dine, and sup, And Victoria be Empress of Brighton. Though we've lost the hussars, (Through Lord Cardigan's jars,) We've a regiment, though not a light one. We've the "Great Northern Wizard," (Old Nick in a vizard,) A fiend, though a very polite one. He'll take watch, purse, and locket, Your eye from its socket, Or your head from your shoulders, in Brighton. We've a lady rope-dancer, (A deuce of a prancer,) With form, as with foot, made to smite one; And a monkey, whose fist, Condescends to be kiss'd By all the blue-stockings in Brighton. Then Ma'amselle Mouton's * ices Have such charming devices, Your teeth are all longing to bite one. And if ever cream-tarts Made havoc of hearts, Your case is a lost one in Brighton. * The celebrated patissière on the Cliff. We have crowds of" sweet preachers," Your pocket-book should be a tight one. Are such roses and pearls! In short, we're all angels in Brighton. They may puff" Le grand Paris," Pekin, Tipperary: Round the world you'll find figures that fright one; French, Spanish, or Dutch, As the ringleted beauties of Brighton. If they say that it rains, Or gives rheumatic pains, Tis a libel. (I'd like to indict one.) All the world's in surprise When any one dies (Unless he prefers it)-at Brighton. I and my illustrious friend have just returned from a visit to Brighton. My mind felt expanded by the magnitude of his. We put up at the Albion, and had an excellent dinner. My illustrious friend chuckled. JOHNSON." This, sir, is worth living for. The human palate was not meant to lie fallow, any more than the human mind." He rolled himself about in evident exultation at the mighty thought. I immediately wrote it down. BOSWELL." But, sir, is it your opinion that lobster sauce was intended to accompany turbot, by an original designation of nature?" He looked at me, as I thought, with unusual ferocity. JOHN." And why not, sir?" he thundered. Then relapsing into a smile, he said, "Curries and other condiments may be the effects of civilization; we do not find them in a natural form. The skill of the cook there finishes the conception of the philosopher. What has occupied the meditation of the closet, is completed by the dexterity of the kitchen. But lobsters, sir" Here he frowned again, I dreaded a storm, and handed him a bottle of Brighton sauce. It had the effect of restoring his good-humour. JOHN." Lobsters, sir, are not to be spoken of with the haughtiness of arrogant science; or with the pertness of flippant conjecture. They are a work of nature, not a composition of art. Now, this Brighton sauce is a composition of art; and on such a subject, you, sir, may say what you please. You are adequate to its discussion." He seemed pleased with the thought, and laughed heartily. I proposed a glass of wine. JOHN." Yes, sir, wine is the liquor of oblivion; it will enable me to forget you. Sir, you are superficial. Superficiality consists, not in the possession of space, but in the want of depth; not in the expansion of substance, but the shallowness of material. It is a negative idea." I was delighted with his eloquence. But I ventured an attempt to change the subject. Bos." Sir, I have heard in Scotland"-The lion was instantly roused. Shaking his brows majestically, he looked at me. JOHN.- -"Sir, What can you have heard in Scotland? Sir, it requires some sense even to hear. To be sure," he added with a solemn laugh, “a man may be like an editor's box; formed to receive all the anonymous trash that fools or knaves pour into it; or he may be a moral poor-box, open to all the spurious coin of public credulity; or he may be like a pawnbroker's shop, meant only to retain the cast-off remnants of other men's property. But he may be no more fit to discuss the merits or demerits of a country, than a crow is fit to discuss the merits or demerits of London, because it may have perched accidentally upon St Paul's. Sir, adhere to the Brighton sauce. Men are never ridiculous but when they aspire. No one objects to the ass for chewing the thistle." Bos." Well, sir, you do not deny that this syllabub has merit?” JOHN." No, Sir! It has merit. That you may discuss. But leave the substantialities of the table to others. Avoid pride. By that sin fell the angels.' Bos." But, sir, the prospect from the window is beautiful." JOHN." Sir, it is beautiful. Nature is always beautiful. Brighton will be always beautiful, because the folly of man cannot spoil its beauty. Wealth may be lavish, or taste may be perverse.-The fantasies of monarchs may be commemorated in barbaric piles of stone, or the speculations of builders may encumber the soil with vandalism in brick; but they cannot build porticoes in the depths of the channel, nor whitewash the green immensity of its waves.' -Come, Sir, I am tired of you. Let us walk upon the shore. "When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"-MACBETH. So, this is your summer To meet a new-corner! The sky's black enough to benight one. (Above all, on Sundays,) It pours down its deluge on Brighton. If I walk on the cliff From the sea comes a whiff, That whirls off my hat, though a tight one; If I stroll through the streets, Every soul that one meets Looks like a drown'd weasel, in Brighton. If I stir in the day I'm half-buried in clay, And, 'twixt sand, salt, and chalk, I'm a white one; If I slip out at night, Not a glimpse of gas-light The tempests will suffer, in Brighton. If I ride on the Downs A hurricane frowns I'm off, 'tis quite useless to fight one; On one of those days I fairly miss'd stays, And came by the life-boat to Brighton. |